


Beloved

by spartanroses (babybrotherdean)



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spartanroses
Summary: Part of him wants to take her right here, just like this- to hold her through it and go quick and rough until she is just as ruined as he is.Instead, he crosses the room and drops her onto the mattress. They do not often have time alone anymore, and he wants to make the most of it while they have the chance.





	Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something like this for a little while, so... here it is! Just what it says in the tags: this is pretty much just smut. Because... why not?
> 
> More notes at the end about some of the ways I've written things, if you're curious. Plus translation notes- there are only two bits (one Norse thing and one Greek thing, and both are terms of endearment) that even need it, but again, I hope that context clues are enough to get the gist of it without you needing to scroll down.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“Don’t go too far, Atreus,” Faye says firmly, but her smile softens the words. She stands at the door to their home, giving the boy a hug as he heads out for the day. It is springtime, and the woods are rife with activity. Wildlife to encounter, herbs to pick, trees to climb. “And if you see anything strange-”

“Come home right away,” Atreus recites. He carries the bow his mother has carved for him, and the way he shifts his weight hints at his excitement. “I will, I promise! I’ll be okay. Goodbye, Mother.” A pause, and then, more tentative as he peeks around his mother’s form, “Goodbye, Father.”

Kratos stands some distance away, still inside the cabin. Close enough to listen, but still distinctly separate; for the last several days, he has been home, and there is an element of uncertainty in everything that happens here. Atreus treads lightly and Kratos stays quiet, for the most part. Now, he nods. “Keep your wits about you, boy.”

It must be enough. Atreus smiles, waves at them both, and turns away, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to pass the fence that surrounds their home. He knows better than to roam too far, he is armed, and he is old enough to handle himself. Kratos is not concerned.

What does catch his attention, though, is the way Faye looks at him after she closes the door behind their son, mischievous and expectant. It is not unfamiliar.

“We haven’t been alone in a while, have we?” She moves closer, wasting little time in eliminating the distance between them. “I’ve missed you.”

Time with his wife is just one of the many things Kratos gives up in favour of his long trips away from home. He accepts Faye into his arms when she makes herself a space there, and he rests his hands on her hips. He can feel her warmth through the tunic she wears; soft and comfortable. “I am here now.”

“You are.” She hums, and her hands find a place on his chest, sliding up until her fingertips skim the sides of his neck, moving along the thick swath of crimson that curls down his body. He has lost count of the long hours she has spent tracing every single line she can find on his skin, ink and scar alike. The hours he has spent, in turn, telling the stories behind them under the shroud of darkness. “And so am I. What are you going to do about it?”

Kratos’ hands fit at Faye’s waist, and she moves willingly, coming to press her body against his. Her lips quirk up into a smile just as he leans in to kiss her, and he can taste it, warm and cheerful, as she tugs him down closer. For a few seconds, they linger like that, and then Faye nips at Kratos’ lower lip and he decides to get more serious.

She laughs when he lifts her, hands slipping under her thighs and bringing her into his arms as he turns towards the bed. Faye fits perfectly here, hooking her legs around his middle and taking the liberty to pepper kisses down the length of his neck, forever intent on taking him apart with the little intimacies she offers. Part of him wants to take her right here, just like this- to hold her through it and go quick and rough until she is just as ruined as he is.

Instead, he crosses the room and drops her onto the mattress. They do not often have time alone anymore, and he wants to make the most of it while they have the chance.

Their lips meet once more as Kratos settles himself above his wife, and already, her hands find the ties in his clothing, working to get it out of the way. He lets her, all of his attention fixed on the taste of her mouth, just as he remembers it; she parts her lips for him and he starts his exploration anew.

“These are in the way,” she mumbles into his mouth, tugging at his clothes, and Kratos grunts, occupied. She tugs harder. “Off.”

He can hardly argue with that. Still, when he sits up, it is with great reluctance, and he is quick to get the offending cloths and furs out of the way; Faye does the same, dropping everything off the side of the bed to be dealt with later. Bare skin laid before him is a temptation he cannot resist, and as soon as Faye settles once more, Kratos leans in and takes it upon himself to become reacquainted with his wife.

He starts at her throat, pale and fragile, feeling the way her pulse flutters against his lips. Her breath hitches when his teeth graze her skin, and he feels the way she grips at his shoulders- pulling him closer, silently asking for more. To this day, he is astounded by the unconditional trust he has earned from her; not for a second now does she seem to fear him. Despite his past; despite knowing the awful things of which he has proven himself capable. Faye looks at him simply as a man, without allowing the shadow that hangs over him to colour her perception.

“ _Verr_ ,” she breathes out as he presses a kiss to one freckled shoulder, and then, “don’t tease. You always _tease_ -”

He does not give her time to finish that thought, sliding lower down her body until he finds her full breasts, sealing his lips around a pert nipple and sucking hard. Faye makes a sound like she is in pain, but she holds him tightly, encouraging. Kratos takes the hint and keeps going; with his hand, he attends to the other, thumbing at her nipple until it goes taut under his touch. He has spent enough time with Faye to know exactly how she likes to feel, and he does not intend to rush through this now that they finally have some time together.

Faye, it seems, does not share this thought, because she continues to speak. “Please,” she tries. Then, more forceful, “if you don’t- if you don’t move on, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight, I swear-”

Kratos lifts his head long enough to meet her eyes, quietly pleased by the need there, echoing his own. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted and spit-slick. “Have patience,” he rumbles, but she responds to that by wrapping her legs around him again, holding on tight. He almost smiles. “So eager?”

She gives him a dirty look for that, so he turns his attention elsewhere. Best to do as he is told, lest she follow through on her threat. Besides, it is hardly a burden to slip one of his hands down between their bodies, quickly finding the warm, wet spot between Faye’s legs. Her head tips back as he traces a fingertip down the length of parted flesh, past coarse hair and into the most sensitive part of her.

Faye moans, breathy and gone, as he presses a finger inside her; she always feels tight around him and this is no exception. With the slick inside her, though, it is easy to add another, and he scissors them apart, looking up to watch her face. Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted, breathing unevenly and pressing up into his hand.

“Good?” he asks, because even now lingers a voice in the back of his head; endless whispering about how he does not deserve this. How he is not fit to be this close to anyone, let alone someone like Faye. She is good in every sense of the word, and Kratos knows he is not. He never has been.

But still, she nods, and her eyes flutter open, and she uses her legs to pull him closer. He keeps his fingers right where they are, still working away as she kisses him, messier than before. “Good,” she whispers, and he swallows the affirmation as best he is able. Despite everything, she still allows him this, and for that, he will never be able to repay her.

It does not stop him from trying.

She cries out when he crooks his fingers, stroking along her inner walls before easing another one inside. Her wetness drips down his hand towards his wrist, but it does not discourage him; not with the way she trembles, nearing an edge. He fixates on that and presses onwards; with his thumb, he finds the tiny nub just at the top of her slit, and he moves in careful circles, and she _keens_.

“ _Verr_ ,” she gasps out again, and it is the only name Kratos knows anymore, the only one that matters in this moments as she shudders against him, pulls him closer. “I can’t- don’t stop-”

And he does not, not until she clenches hard around his fingers and digs her nails into his skin, warm and wet and shaking through her climax. Not until she has tears in her eyes, bright blue and barely open as she begs him, “do it, please, just _fuck_ me-”

And through it all, Kratos has been so focused on the woman beneath him that his own body has become distant; he can feel the weight of his cock hanging down, flushed and hard, the whole of him thrumming with anticipation and need. He does not deny himself any longer, and it is an easy thing to shift his position, gently pulling his fingers free before he brings himself up to press against her entrance. He glances up long enough for his wife to nod at him, and then he moves his hips and starts to press inside.

He takes his time, because even after taking his fingers, she feels tight around him; warm and slick in the best way. She clings to him, arms looping around his neck now so she can tuck her face into the curve of his shoulder, and Kratos is content to have her there, breathing together as a single entity by the time he is fully sheathed. He rests there for a moment, quiet as they hold each other.

Where he is fire, Faye is ice, but in this, they come together in a perfect sort of harmony. She is everything Kratos has never been, wearing her heart on her sleeve and fighting for the good of all those around her, and perhaps it is what drew him to her in the first place. He came to this realm a broken man, defeated by his own mistakes and sins, and it has only been through Faye’s hand- her careful touch, her patience, her endless faith- that he has begun to heal.

Now, he holds her, half of his entire world. The woman who completes him and makes up for everything he lacks; the soulmate he never thought he deserved.

“I’m here,” she whispers, and Kratos closes his eyes. In her arms, he feels safe in a way he never does anywhere else in the world. “It’s okay.”

Forever in tune with his thoughts. He does not want this to be their focus now, though. Not when they so rarely get this time together anymore.

He slides a hand under her shoulder while the other rests on her hip, making sure he has a proper hold before he starts to move again. The slow slide out from her warmth nearly does him in, but he holds on tight and thrusts his hips forward again, making a low sound as Faye moans again. He sets a brutal pace, and he keeps close, intent on holding her through the whole thing.

Things are always blurry in these moments, as the two of them are reduced to their most basic forms; a man and a woman, locked together in an intimate moment. Flesh slipping against sweat-slick flesh; fingers leaving bruises in fair skin; quiet, visceral noises punched out of them both as they move together, quickly finding a rhythm where they work as one, fused at their centres.

Faye brings him down to share another long kiss, and Kratos goes willingly, closing his eyes as he keeps moving. He can feel her smiling, and when she speaks, she whispers, as if she is sharing a secret.

“My turn.”

Before Kratos can react, Faye’s leg hooks more firmly around his waist and she throws her weight up towards him, twisting the both of them until Kratos finds himself on his back. She ends up sitting in his lap, triumphant, still with his cock buried inside her.

“Better,” she hums, and gets herself good and comfortable, hands on his chest as she steadies herself. Kratos watches her, unable to fight the faint smile on his face, and she pauses when she looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He chuckles and adjusts himself, hands coming up to rest on Faye’s hips once more. Already, he can see the marks he has left behind, and they fuel something in him. “You are full of surprises, _agapiméni mou_.”

Faye smiles to mirror him, and then she focuses again, knees against the mattress for leverage before she starts to move. She works her hips up and down, slowly at first until she finds her rhythm. Kratos helps as best he can, lifting her up before pulling her back down, thrusting his hips up against her to drive just that small bit deeper, intent on leaving her sore when they finish. He always takes pleasure in seeing the shift in her gait after they have been together.

Words evaporate once more into senseless noises; communication broken down into hitched breath and needy moans. Kratos sits up to hold Faye closer to himself, and she grips his shoulders tightly as she continues to move. They are beginning to lose their sense of rhythm as their movements become sloppy and desperate, and Kratos can feel a familiar warmth building in his groin, insistent and threatening to spill over.

There must be some change in his expression, because Faye speaks, breathless. “Take what you need. I’m yours.”

And he does; he tightens his grip and he lets everything else go, absolutely relentless as he pounds into her. He can see the place where they meet; the place where she parts for him so easily, and he feels dizzy as he watches, hypnotized. He sees and feels the moment when she finishes again, clenching hard and pulsing around his cock; it does him in, and he grunts low in his throat as he spills inside her. He presses up hard as he tugs her down onto him, buried as deep as he can get as they work through their shared climax.

Faye holds him, too. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his skin, whispering tiny affections in a language he cannot understand in the midst of this pleasure. All but his mother tongue have left him, and it is in Greek that he addresses her, quiet and rough. “You are too good to me, my love. I do not deserve you.”

She answers him in Greek, too. Heavily accented, but meaningful. “I love you. You know that.”

Instead of responding with words, Kratos lifts her, softening his grip as they both come down from the momentary high. He is gentle now, removing her from his lap to lay her down on the bed once more. She watches him, a question in her eyes, but he stays quiet as he slides down between her legs, nudging them apart and bringing them to rest over his shoulders. This is a position with which he has become intimately familiar.

Faye is messy down here, wet with her own slick as well as what Kratos has left behind. He kisses the insides of her thighs, first, in love with every single inch of her body, and then he works his way inwards, listening to the sounds she makes when he starts to use his tongue.

She must be sensitive by now, and it shows in the way her hips twitch up towards his mouth when he licks up between her lips, slow and careful. The urgency is gone from his movements, and instead, he focuses on cleaning her up; he has learned to savour this taste, the mingling of the two of them together, and he hums now, content as he works away at his task.

He builds her up slowly, pausing now and again to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, and she rewards him for it in tiny movements and sounds. Her ankles hook together behind him, and she uses her grip to pull him closer, encouraging Kratos to dip his tongue inside her, as deep as he can get. Warm and soft and wet; he could spend days here with Faye’s scent all around him, and he relishes in it now, eyes slipping shut once more so he can soak it all in.

As Faye tenses, he pours his last bit of effort into bringing her over the edge; he seals his lips around the tiny, slick bit of flesh that always makes her fall apart, and he brings up his hand once more, just one finger inside of her this time. It proves to be enough as she shudders against him, all but boneless for her third and final climax. She says something, but it is too quiet for Kratos to hear with her thighs wrapped around his head, so he simply continues as he is, working his tongue and his finger until she is left trembling and weak. Until her legs part once more and she reaches down, half-heartedly pushing him away.

“You’ll be the death of me,” she tells him, her voice breathy and ruined, and Kratos huffs out something that might be a laugh as he settles down beside her. She fits perfectly in his arms, and he holds her there as they both catch their breath, winded in the aftermath of their union. “And you call me eager.”

With one hand, Kratos pulls a blanket over them both, a lazy covering in case Atreus returns earlier than usual. No sense in the boy seeing anything he should not. “Yes. I do.”

They do not speak after that, and Kratos closes his eyes as Faye settles against him. He is warm and sated with the woman he loves held close by his chest, and nothing in the world seems to matter more than this moment. For now, he has no other purpose; he is simply here to exist alongside his wife, both of them content to rest for just a moment. Just as long as they can get away with it among everything else going on in their simple lives.

“Time to rest,” Faye says quietly, but Kratos is already drifting, halfway to sleep. He feels her lips brush his bearded cheek, and he hears her whisper once more, returning to Greek. It feels important.

“I love you so much. Never forget that, my dear.”

Sleep takes him, and the words imprint themselves somewhere in Kratos’ mind. These moments, he thinks, he will hold onto for the rest of his life. Whatever may wait for them in the future, this will never leave.

He intends to hold on tight. He has already lost too much.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a few headcanons that worked their way into this- most notably, that Faye doesn't really address Kratos by his name. Ever. He might not have even shared it with her for a long while. I'm working on a whole long fic inspired by something to that effect, so I'll delve into it more there, but identity seems like a really big theme throughout the new game- as well as the lack of an identity- and that's why she only ever addresses him as "verr" in this (which is just a word for "husband"). So... that's a thing.
> 
> I also headcanon that Faye probably gained at least a basic understanding of Greek in the time she spent with Kratos. He learned her language, so I have to imagine that she picked up on his, too- and maybe Atreus' affinity for languages came from her. Who knows?
> 
> Anyways- thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it ^^
> 
> **Old Norse**  
>  _verr_ \- husband
> 
> **Greek**  
>  _agapiméni mou_ \- my beloved


End file.
